


a penny for your thoughts

by tenienteross (ada)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Crawley, Gen, Sibling Bonding, and my lame explanation of the shilling pendant, featuring more of Jacob's daddy issues, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ada/pseuds/tenienteross
Summary: Jacob has been acting weird, and Evie is resolved to find out why.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Metal.

Their legs hang from the edge idly, the wind hissing in a soft tune. The mill is calm and slumbering at this hour, and Evie still can recall every corner and hiding spot from her visit. This was the scenario of her first blooding: the day she became an Assassin. Her stomach flutters when she remembers it, compounding the thrill of the moment with the slight sense of remorse that came after. 

She has followed Jacob here, though. She’s not interested in conjuring up that memory. Instead, she stares knowingly at her brother. He’s sitting next to her, fingers twiddling with a straw. To hide the agitation in his frown and eyes, Evie guesses.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks after a long, muted silence.

He looks back at her, squinting.

“About what?”

“You moping around since Tuesday,” she blurts. 

If Jacob ever thought she would never notice, he had been a fool. Although Evie’s bet is on him actually believing he can conceal emotion from his face very naturally—which, of course, is completely untrue. 

Jacob has many talents, but discretion and putting on a blank face are not some of them. It’s not that Evie knows him too well (not only). Jacob oozes his feelings like an actor on the stage. He can even get overly dramatic on purpose, especially when there’s an ongoing argument with their father. But usually Evie only needs scarce hints to realise there’s a problem: a twitch on his lip, a timely grumble here and there. 

And he’s been exceptionally quiet and grave during their last sparring lessons. That was the breaking point, the cue for Evie to track him that night when he sneaked out of the family house after dinner.

He winces at her straightforwardness, offended. “There’s nothing to talk about. And I don’t _mope_.”

Evie just rests her chin on one hand, throwing Jacob her most relentless glare.

“Call it what you want. You are sulking,” she asserts evenly. “Have you fought with Father again?”

That wrings an irritated groan out of Jacob, while he avoids her piercing look. Lying back a bit, he props himself up on his elbows and stares into the distance.

“Just leave me be, Evie.”

Evie waves her hand dismissively in reply.

“Did George say something to you when he came by? I noticed you were looking daggers at him last night,” she insists, tapping on his shoulder. 

“Drop it,” he answered icily, finally stretching out on the roof’s surface. His forearm now hides his eyes, as he lets out a tired grunt.

Evie sighs. It’s obvious something bothers Jacob, and it is probably related to Ethan or George. Maybe both. However, when they quarrel it’s usually very loud and intense and ear-rending, with lots of yelling and the occasional kick to a poor piece of furniture (thanks to Jacob) that happened to be nearby. Evie can’t recall anything of the sort happening in recent weeks—and she _would_ remember. Oh she would. 

There are the faint sounds of barking from across the mill, resonating around the yard. No candles lit behind the windows, so it seems that either the miller and his family are deep asleep already or they are out of town. Jacob has probably chosen this spot to brood because the views are, at least, quite stunning. A balm for the troubled souls, maybe.

If Evie peeks just enough into the horizon, she swears the tilitating lights coming from London can be seen from so far. But in such a rare cloudless night, she’s more enthralled by the ocean of stars above their heads. Father has taught her about constellations and how to read those little sparks to guide you anywhere in the world. As with mostly everything he teaches her, Evie is fascinated by the discovery and the learning beyond a book’s page or Ethan’s words. 

She’s deep in her own mind, admiring the darkening sky, when her fingers casually trace the shape a coin in the inner pocket of her vest. Her train of thought trails off abruptly, replaced by an idea. She hasn’t given up yet, after all.

With a flick, she fishes the silver out of his cotton vest ands hands it in the air, in front of her eyes. A rusted shilling. Evie turns her head, showing the glinting piece pressed between her fingertips to Jacob.

“A penny for your thoughts, brother,” she utters amusedly.

Jacob slides the forearm off his face, glancing back at her with a baffled expression. 

“You’re not giving up, are you?”

“Not at all,” she beams a smug smirk. 

Evie tosses the shilling to him. Jacob catches it steadily, burying the little piece of metal inside his fist. It’s silence until he spends a few minutes contemplating the coin on his palm, distractedly. He is sitting now on the crumbly tiles, slouching in defeat. Before his lips start to move, he casts a weary look at Evie. 

“Last Monday I overheard Father and George talking in Father’s studio…”  


“Oh, you were eavesdropping?” she interjects cheekily. 

“Shut it. You do it all the time, I’ve seen you.” Evie nods, acknowledging her blame. “I just happened to pass by the door when I was going outside to take a piss and…”

“Too much information, Jacob.”

He sticks his tongue out, but resumes talking. “They were speaking about us. Our training and our place in the Brotherhood now that we are Assassins and all that hogwash. Yes, _hogwash_ ,” he remarks when Evie winces at the way he refers to their Creed. 

“I take it… it was not good?” She can’t avoid a hushed yelp, suddenly concerned about herself. 

Jacob notices and huffs.

“Don’t panic, sister. They were singing your praises, _especially_ Father.” Evie gulps, her body tensing and cheeks slightly flushed. “Me? Well, that’s another story.”

“What did he say?” she inquires, although the answer is evidently not a cheery one.

“That my blooding came too soon, that I wasn’t ready to take the responsibility that comes with the blade. That I acted too fast and too harshly. That I relied too much on my fists and not on my brains. That sometimes he wasn’t sure I should have been initiated in the first place, because I am ‘unwilling to learn anything’ and ‘show no regard for our matters’,” Jacob catches his breath, breathing heavily through his nose as words are drenched in a bath of bitterness. “Because I don’t do things _his_ way and don’t kiss his arse. That’s why I am not a good Assassin.”

Evie lowers her head, fingers drumming on her knee absently. Her mind is trying to come up with the best, less hurtful answer. Yes, she’s aware that their father is sometimes too strict and demanding with Jacob when there was no apparent reason for it.

However, she also knows Jacob has probably done something days or weeks before that has garnered their father’s cold and quiet fury over him. This has been their dynamic ever since they started training, months after they had met Ethan for the very first time on a winter morning, at an empty train station. 

While Evie had learnt to let go and forgive, Jacob had likely held a grudge over him ever since. A grudge that has transformed itself in rejection of everything Ethan ever said or did.

She knows of all the ins and outs of their situation. That doesn’t come in hand now, and Evie’s rendered speechless. 

“Thanks for telling me, Jacob,” she finally says, patting his shoulder. “And for what is worth, I don’t think Father really believes that. He’s been very tired and unwell lately.”

Jacob replies with a shrug, gazing fixedly at the shilling lying on his palm.

“You can have your money back, then.”

He’s about to toss the coin back when Evie covers his hand with hers. “Keep it. That way, when you feel down, you will never be able to hide anything from your dearest sister.”

For a split-second, Jacob’s eyes gaze at her gleaming—vulnerable, even. The sense of surprise at being cared for, at someone else worrying about what is going on in his mind. Evie finds it funny that he’s slightly shocked every time she (or anyone) shows sincere concern over him. As if he’s not accustomed to the feeling.

He blinks repeatedly, looking back and forth to the shilling. Then it disappears inside his trousers’ pocket, and Jacob shoots a timid smirk. 

“Race you to the house!” he hisses, and shoots out like a bolt of lightning from the tiles, falling with a mighty thump on the grass. 

Evie stands up in a heartbeat and jumps off the rooftop to run after him, their roaring laughs blended in the middle of a soundless night.

**Author's Note:**

> More like a _shilling_ for your thoughts.
> 
> At this rate, I might need to rename the series to "15 Prompts of Unstoppable Daddy Issues".


End file.
